


The Bottle

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Peter takes Elizabeth to the storage unit.





	The Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar, but I do like to take the characters for a spin around the block once in a while.

The Bottle

“Hon,” Elizabeth called out from the kitchen, “Do we have a storage unit?”

Peter had just returned from taking Satchmo for a walk. Entering the kitchen, he found Elizabeth leaning against the island looking over their credit card statement. For a moment, he stared at the paper in confusion seeing the record for Manhattan Self Storage. Then his knees nearly gave out, as recognition flooded through him. 

“Peter?” Elizabeth touched his arm, her concern showing as she saw the paleness in her husband’s face. “What is it?” 

Slowly, Peter met her eyes. “That’s probably something I should have told you about.”

The sheer sadness portrayed in his eyes caused Elizabeth to shiver. She rocked back into her husband, somehow sensing his need for closeness. “Tell me now,” she whispered. 

Peter shook his head. “Better to show you.”

An hour later, the couple stood silently outside the double doors of a gray storage container; unit 701 to be specific. When Peter made no move forward, Elizabeth grasped his hand. 

“Hon, you’re kind of freaking me out here. What’s inside?”

Her hand in his snapped Peter out of thoughts from the past. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a key ring, sorting through until he found the right one. With shaky steps, he approached the unit and unlocked the doors. It had been nearly two years since he was first here. Elizabeth stood back, knowing that whatever was inside, it was important to her husband. She thought it best not to rush him.

While still turned away from her, Peter started talking. Stepping closer, Elizabeth had to strain to hear him. She was barely able to make out the words but the sorrow she plainly heard. “I’m sorry. I should have shared this with you sooner. I just…I didn’t know what to think. At first, I thought…but then with time...” Peter opened the side-by- side doors and turned to face his wife. Tears rimming his eyes, he motioned for her to enter without him. 

Somewhat warily, Elizabeth entered. First glance around the small area left her even more confused, not recognizing anything in front of her. Turning back, her husband was nowhere in sight so she decided to take a closer look. There were paintings and paint supplies. Dominating the center of the room was a male mannequin clothed in a grey suit; a round hole in the chest area. The back wall was covered with poster board with pictures of people Elizabeth didn’t know and pictures of fish of all things. It wasn’t until she was circling to the left that she found familiar objects. Pinned to the wall were four birthday cards. A faint smile touched her lips knowing these had been sent to her husband from Neal while he had been incarcerated. Below the cards sat two empty bottles of wine; one of which seemed vaguely familiar. 

A shadow passed over her. A glance back showed Peter standing just outside the door, a conflicted look on his face indicating he didn’t know whether to enter or not. For the first time ever, her husband looked as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. 

Turning back, she took a sharp breath seeing the object tucked behind the bottles. Picking up the GPS tracker, her heart pounded a little more in her chest. With new insight, she went back over to the poster board. In addition to the pictures, there were papers with writing. One in particular caught her eye. Low heart rate. Slow metabolism. Decrease in body temperature. Dilated Pupils. Pallid Skin. It appeared to be a random listing of symptoms but when combined with the picture she now knew to be of a puffer fish, she began to see things a whole lot differently. In fact, the pieces of the puzzle were coming together and she was beginning to understand her husband’s current state. 

“Son of a bitch!” she exclaimed loudly. 

The shadow came closer. “Me or him?” Peter asked softly. If he was surprised that she had taken the clues and put them together so quickly, he didn’t show it. 

Finding her husband’s eyes, she said irritated, “I’m not sure! Both of you, I think! If he was here right now, I might kill him!”

With her words, Peter’s lips curled slightly upward. “I know that feeling.”

“How long have you known and why didn’t you tell me?!”

Peter turned away and picked up the tracker. He was relieved she had figured it out on her own. Of course, he knew she would. She was smart. He liked smart. Caressing the black plastic, he decided to answer one of her questions. The other—the other was something he really didn’t want to talk about. 

Reluctantly, he returned the tracker to the shelf and picked up one of the bottles of wine. Waving it to her, he answered, “Since this arrived on our doorstep.”

“Peter, that was nearly 2 years ago!” When no response appeared to be forthcoming, she went to his side. It hadn’t gotten past her that he hadn’t answered her second question. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she repeated.

With bottle still in hand, Peter abruptly turned away and stepped outside of the storage unit. Suddenly feeling trapped, almost claustrophobic, he had a desperate need to be in the light, to feel the warm breeze on his skin. The fact that the movement also served as a stalling tactic was just an added bonus.

Of course, Elizabeth wasn’t going to let it go and pursued him outside. To her credit she remained silent while he paced by the car. Finally, he stopped and faced her. “To protect you.”

“From what?”

“From knowing the truth! Better, easier to believe he died that day.”

“What’s the truth?” Impatience showed in her stance, in her voice. Then she looked at him with horror, as her thoughts began to run rampant on what could have happened to Neal in the last three years. “Where is he?” Peter shrugged. “Is he dead? In prison? Where is he, Peter?”

“I don’t know, El.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve had 2 years to find him!”

His next words were spoken so softly, Elizabeth wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “What?”

He blew out a breath and repeated his words so she could hear. “I haven’t looked.” 

Seeing her unbelieving expression, Peter let his anger show. “Fuck, El! What would you have had me do? We had a baby. You made it very clear that you wanted a husband and a father. I didn’t think you wanted me gallivanting across Europe again! And with what resources? I certainly couldn’t go through official Bureau channels. Yes, he had a deal in place, but he faked his own death; not to mention the millions of dollars that went missing from the Panther heist! Should I have found him just to turn him in?”

“He’s family.” When he failed to respond, she added, “You should have tried to bring him home.”

He turned showing an anger that bordered on rage. “This is what I wanted to protect you from! We’re not his family and this isn’t his home!”

“How can you say that?”

She wasn’t sure he heard her as he continued his rant. “I thought the same thing when I first came here. Thank God, he’s alive! I felt like a piece of me that I had lost was suddenly found. He wanted me to know he was alive. Why else would he have Mozzie leave the bottle? He would know that I couldn’t chase him again so it was just going to be a matter of time before he reached out. Days turned into weeks and then months with nothing. Still I wasn’t too concerned. 

This became my special place. When I got the notice the rental fee was due, I paid it. I started coming here whenever I was stumped on a case or just needed to feel close to him. That’s why I brought the birthday cards and the bottle. But then more months went by. I didn’t get it. I knew he had to be careful, but he could have found a way to make contact if he had wanted to. But I wasn’t ready to dwell too much on that. Instead, I convinced myself that I must have missed something. I came back here to take another look at the bottle. Maybe I missed some other clue he had left for me so that I could find him. I convinced myself that he was out there somewhere wondering why I hadn’t contacted him. I was near panic by the time I got here thinking that he thought I had given up on him. When I arrived, I saw it. I don’t know why I didn’t see it the first time or maybe I did but just didn’t want to think about what it meant.”

“What? What did you see?” Elizabeth asked, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted answers anymore. Not if the expression on her husband’s face was any indication as well as the fact that Peter couldn’t even bring himself to use Neal’s name.

“The 1982 bottle of Bordeaux. The same bottle he was holding when I arrested him after his prison escape.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I asked him if Kate had left a message in that bottle. He told me the bottle was the message. That’s when I knew our bottle didn’t have any secrets. The bottle was our message. The same one Kate had left for him.”

“Peter, what was the message?”

With haunted eyes, Peter replied, “Goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who think this ending is depressing, I agree. I can only say this was not how the story was supposed to go, but that darn muse had a mind of its own! Also, this is my first ever fan fiction work so I welcome comments.


End file.
